


Whumptober Prompt Fill

by GMGT



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Blood, Guns, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Whumptober, earthquake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GMGT/pseuds/GMGT
Summary: It’s that time of year again.
Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. Let’s hang out sometime

**Author's Note:**

> Day one: waking up restrained, shackles, hanging.  
> Please note that   
> a) I haven’t been able to write seriously for a while and this is my attempt to get back in the swing.   
> b) I suck at whump. Again, this is my attempt to improve.

Kokichi was many things, but easily caught unawares was not one of them. He never slept unless he knew with absolute certainty that no one and nothing could get to him. With that in mind, he was rather understandably alarmed to wake up hanging by his arms in a room he had never seen before.

He quickly accessed the situation. He was hanging roughly three feet of the ground, which was completely bare. He was hanging by two pairs of handcuffs, one for each hand. The other side seemed to be encased in some sort of concrete, firmly latching it to the ceiling. He could work with this. Of course he could. He was the ultimate mastermind, after all. He ignored the voice in the back of his head, whispering _lie lie lie._

It was silly, really. Kokichi lied to others, of course. But not himself.   
  
He shook his head. He didn’t have time for this. He started swinging, slowly and deliberately. The shackles held tight, forming red pressure marks on his wrist. He stopped. This wasn’t working. He didn’t have the strength to rip them out outright. That was fine. He just need to get tricky with it.

Several gymnastic stunts later, Kokichi was running out of ideas. And wasn’t that a novel thing, really? All his life, he had had more idea than he could possibly use. And suddenly, the moment he needed a plan the most- poof. He was empty. He heard a sound, bitter and hollow. It took a second for him to realize he was laughing.

Once he had started, suddenly he couldn’t stop. He laughed and laughed, fits of giggle and snorts tumbling out. Once, Kokichi had categorized his laughs. There were 34 of them, each instantly recognizable. Dimly he noted that this laugh would be the thirty third.

he lost track of time, his voice growing hoarser and hoarser. And then, as suddenly as it had started, he fell silent. His body went limp, falling down to the floor.

In the next five days, Kokichi found himself unable to muster a smile. He told himself he was resting. He ignored the little voice, whispering _lie lie lie_.


	2. In the hands of the enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two: “Pick who dies” , collars, kidnapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tododeku tag is put on in preparation for when my shipper brain inevitably pulls it in. For now, let’s say it’s implied.

The first thing Midoriya noticed was the quiet. Like clockwork, he always managed to face off again some up and running supervillain every time he went on patrol (he was starting to wonder if there were any villains left). And yet, five hours into his shift, there was nothing. It made him wish they had gone to Uraraka’s birthday party with the others instead of covering their shifts with Todoroki. The longer he walked, the tenser he became. Midoriya could see it in Todoroki, too. His shoulders were stiff, in a way Midoriya hadn’t seen since first year. Suddenly, a sharp noise sounded behind his back. He turned sharply, eyes wide. A pebble bounced down the street, carried by the wind.  
Midoriya flushed, glancing at Todoroki from the side. He hadn’t even reacted. “Maybe we should call it a day,” Midoriya suggested, “ It’s getting late.” Todoroki started to nod, when- everything went black.  
A sharp tug against his neck pulled Midoriya awake. There was something pressed against it, cold and metallic. He opened his eyes to discover that it was a collar. He then realized, with some degree of panic, that all for one was gone. Todoroki laid on the floor perhaps five feet away, still knocked out. He wore an identical collar. They were in a warehouse (typical villain, using an abandoned warehouse. Uncreative, the lot of them.).  
It was at least a decade old, rust coloring the walls in place of paint. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust, except for two lines leading to Midoriya and Todoroki. They must have been dragged in a hurry, he supposed.   
There were two sets of footprints. One was forceful, the other hurriedly moving as if forced. A huff alerted him that he was not alone. A shadowed figure stood in the corner, cloaked in dark red. Hunched over next to him was a man in chains, doing his best to shrink into himself. Suddenly, he was reminded of a missing persons case the week before. He had memorized the face, in case of emergency. And that same face stood right in front of him now, cowering next to the figure that had taken them both.  
“You must choose.” A hoarse voice called. It felt disconnected, disjointed. The figure walked forward, stopping a couple feet away from where he laid. They dropped a gun at his feet. Midoriya stared at his uncovered face, trying to identify it. But the harder he tried the more it morphed, twisting and changing in dizzying combinations. That... wasn’t normal.  
The figure continued. “Him?” They pointed at the man in chains. “Or him?” They pointed at Todoroki. “In order for you to leave this place, one must die.”  
The words felt like a knife twisting in his heart. In order for you to leave this place, one must die. They were right, he realized. There was only one way.  
He picked up the gun, his heart pounding holes in his brain. He steadied his hand, and prepared to aim.  
He watched as the bullet shot right through the figure’s forehead. When he walked away with todoroki on his shoulder, the man’s face (for it was a man, he could see now) was stained the same red as his cloak.


	3. My way or the highway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Manhandling, forced to their knees, held at gunpoint.

I don’t want to skip this day but at the same time I know that I cannot write this today, and I will not allow myself to be held back my this prompt. I’m sorry, I spent today doing homework and ran out of time. I just can’t bring myself to write, even though I had a plan for today. Maybe tomorrow I’ll write along with day four. I’m sorry...


	4. Running out of time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Caged, Buried alive, Collapsed Building

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about yesterday. Also, disclaimer that I know literally nothing about earthquakes and what it’s like to experience one.

As an underground pro hero, Aizawa Shota had been in a wide variety of situations. He had been caged several times over the years, from a suffocatingly small lead box to a prison cell (Aizawa didn’t like to talk about that particular instance).  
In comparison, this cell was downright homely- ignoring the fact a large earthquake was taking place outside.  
After some internal debate a couple hours prior, he had decided it was best to stay where he was until it was safe. After all, there was no point in escaping a prison cell only to be crushed by debris.  
The movements almost made him want to throw up. The crashes that followed seemed to be getting louder, for some odd reason. Aizawa’s ears began to ring. Aizawa brought out his noise-blocking headphones. If they were good enough to block out Yamada, they could block out an earthquake. He sighed contentedly when the thumping turned into a soft hum. He didn’t hear it when the humming got louder, when the plaster started to creak. He didn’t hear the jagged split of the ceiling above. But he certainly felt it when a large chuck hit him squarely in the back of his head, knocking him out cold.  
A couple days later, when the heroes made their way to the outskirts of town, they found a body, seemingly wearing a grey tracksuit and goggles. If present mic was there, he would have identified him instantly (Present Mic was on the other side of town, calling out in vain). He was rushed to the hospital, like any other civilian. But an unidentified civilian, even one with such severe injuries, was simply not important enough to use resources on, especially in a time like this. His body was placed in an unmarked grave, among hundreds of others.  
(Yamada never stopped looking for him. He never gave up.)


End file.
